Beyond The Lie
by yumi michiyo
Summary: Miroku was never truly Miroku until he met Sango. Oneshot. Contains references to well-known Sango/Miroku events from the anime and manga.


Looking back, Miroku thought he was never truly Miroku until the day he met Sango.

When he traveled alone, he depended on honeyed words and sweet lies to coax young women. They only asked him for promises of love which he readily gave but never meant. Miroku had no time for love. He concealed his true self behind his mask of insincerity and drifted from woman to woman; he had a mission first and foremost. Sango was different from the rest: she asked for nothing but his friendship and his help in her quest to avenge her people, things he was more than happy to give – they had no strings attached.

_I never want to fall in love – it involves too much truth._

His practiced, polished, pretty lies seemed to work on her; at the very least, Sango never questioned him. She would sulk because of his flirting, scold him for his pervertedness, punish him for his lechery, but she never asked why. It astonished him that one woman cold be immune to his charms: slowly, Sango began to penetrate his barriers just by being Sango.

She reached through his lecherous façade and touched something in his soul; something he had forgotten was ever there. Miroku found himself wanting to be there for her always, be able to offer her something more than the conman and perverted monk she – everybody – saw. Sango valued his honesty most of all: something he was becoming more willing to give her.

She deserved better than old-Miroku. New-Miroku was hardly the paragon of virtue his religion could be proud of but she loved him anyway – bless her, she loved him for him no matter what he did. He could not understand why, but he was sure she did not lie about matters of the heart the way he did.

Miroku opened up more, shared more, and became more real. Inuyasha, Kagome and Shippou all thought his personality had changed completely for the better because of his growing affection for Sango.

_It _was_ because of Sango, but in the first place, you never saw the real Miroku. _

Though they had feelings for one another, she never expressed hers; he did not because she did not. Miroku knew it was for their own good but idly he wondered how long they could play this game of love and not-love until Sango turned on him, possessed by a salamander demon. In the wake of the turbulence of emotion generated, he gladly made her a promise of a future together. Miroku could have said he did not want to bear this additional burden – of living for her sake – but to say so would have been a lie.

She had almost been broken – Miroku had really broken, threatening the fish demon in so many words to release 'his' woman – when she thought him betrothed to another. Luckily, it had turned out to be a happy misunderstanding in the end, but it was frightening enough to convince the monk losing her would be too much for him to bear.

What irked him for a long time after were not the words lacking their usual polish, the brutality of his attack, or the look of pleased shock on Sango's face. It was the raw emotion of the entire situation: he had meant every word from the bottom of his heart. It had been a long time since he had spoken freely without carefully crafting sentences.

_Is this love that I'm feeling for her – or just protectiveness?_

He continued to lie but only to get food and lodging for them: gone were the days of robbing households blind. Miroku no longer lied for personal gain: he lied with nobler intentions in mind. He knew his friends – and most of all Sango – would disapprove and that alone was good enough for him. He lied to Sango about his Kazaana. Little white lies designed to spare her further worry; she had enough to worry about without adding his problems to hers, as he knew she would do without hesitation.

_I love her – but I'm not _in love_ with her._

When the shouki wounds threatened to claim his life, he lied about their severity; to her, they did not exist. Sango did not find out when Kikyou did, nor when Inuyasha did. Not until Magatsuhi's attack did she learn the painful truth when he almost killed himself trying to save Kohaku – again.

He gave up on his lies for good when she lay in his arms, the pair of them trapped in Naraku's bowels, the Kazaana threatening to swallow him any moment. She had almost killed Rin and herself in her desperation to get to him: it tore at his heart even as the curse tore at his palm. Miroku had never felt as much despair and hopelessness as when he did when Sango asked him to take her with him into the depths of his Kazaana. He cared nothing for himself: the only thing that mattered was her life.

_So this is what it's like to love someone completely, without lies._


End file.
